


Hiraeth

by Merilsell



Series: Lenyaverse: Sidestories [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Background Relationship, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Lenya Mahariel, POV First Person, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Short One Shot, Sort Of, Wistful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merilsell/pseuds/Merilsell
Summary: Brief introspective fic about Mahariel's memories of her past life and how it has changed since becoming a Warden in the time of the Blight. Of all that once was and she has lost. Prompt fic, see notes for more infos.





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Pick a character you've written about before in 3rd person and write their first, or best, memory from the first-person point of view ("I narration"). No limits on length, or brevity for that matter.

::::::

 

I remember when home meant the embrace of my clan, safe and sheltered from the cruelty lying beyond their borders. I remember the way the sun and wind caressed my face when I ran through the forest. Alone.  _Free_.

I remember the sound of the thicket and dry wood crunching under my feet; the smell of pinewood, earth and rain. The rich multitude of colors when I sat within the middle of a meadow, silently marveling at the beauty of nature for hours. I remember the delight I felt as I discovered a wayward bush of raspberries and their savory, sweet taste as I took the plump fruit between my teeth and slowly bit down.

I remember the days when the biggest sorrow was to hunt enough food for the clan. Where my days were full of laughter and childish shenanigans. I remember Tamlen. My friend, my brother, being  _alive_  and the one laughing with me. Or being the one comforting me, smothering my frustration when I failed to live up to my clan's expectations.

I remember Ashalle. Her gentle, warm smile, loving me like a mother would love her daughter. I remember her nagging and lectures when I tested and stretched the tight boundaries around me for countless times. The way she cared for me, dispelling all fears hunting me. And the way my clan cared for me in spite of me not fitting into my father's too large shadow.

 _Home_.

I remember calling that wherever my clan would wander.

But they are gone now and I couldn't follow.

I'm too lost in darkness, caught in a perpetual nightmare of blood, death and pain. Searing fire is roaring through my veins night after night, along with the bitter song of taint resounding in my head. The taste of past mistakes lingers with and inside me, the guilt bitter and unforgettable on my lips.

My blades, once only used for playful practice, are severing now limbs and heads in a steady and emotionless routine. The acrid stank of their rotten bodies is staying with me, their poisonous blood burns on my skin like fire.

Grey Warden they call me, the weight of ending the Blight and the many lives depending on me heavy on my small shoulders. Survival and fighting now dictates my days once full of laughter, a needed evil to fulfill the duty this unwanted title and life brings with it. My old life and everything what I called home, are forever lost in a distant haze, yet I remember it so clearly.

I cannot go back, no matter how I wish for it. Sometimes. ... _Often_.

My innocence is torn, shred to pieces by the blood I share with these creatures I vowed to kill. Home is far behind. Where once was the beauty of nature is now dust and blighted land. So I go on and thread the path I did not choose, until the darkness ends or devours me.

A hand upon my shoulder reminds me of being not alone on this path, the heat of its touch seeps through the leather of my armor. I close my eyes, take a breath. Once. Twice.

Turning around, I look into the face of a human, my fellow Warden. His gaze lingers wondering on me and yet expresses a mute understanding. Within the liquid amber of his eyes I see bare, genuine affection and a warmth starts to flood me. It dispels these dark thoughts in its wake. He smiles and gently takes my hand into his, to give it a reassuring squeeze.

With this little gesture, I finally remember that some of home is still _with_ me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiraeth: a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.
> 
> Kudos/Comments are always appreciated. Especially the latter ;)


End file.
